Looking for my Angel
by Vohx
Summary: Jamie Sullivan is anything but ordinary  a firm believer in God with the help of her mother and a father who is more than often out of the house. With the bruises and cuts from her peers, Jamie is subconsciously searching for her angel.
1. Saints Are Selfless

_Looking for my Angel_

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the story.

Jamie Sullivan is anything but ordinary a firm believer in God with the help of her mother and a father who is more than often out of the house. With the bruises and cuts from her peers, Jamie is subconsciously searching for her angel.

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Saints Are Selfless But That Can Be Their Downfall

Almost every teenager has been the victim and the predator. The one who taunts and the one who is humiliated, it can't be helped. But those who are different, they must somehow have to be punished because that is the society of high school. And those who befriend the different and are different themselves, are lower than the low in the eyes of judgmental teenagers.

And the social ladder is a frustrating thing. The popular students control the student body. And the ones below listen. Listen and nothing else.

'_God, if this is your way to teach me, then I understand. I trust your decisions._' Jamie Sullivan covered her face with her arms, laying in a fetal position at a corner in the bathroom as the ends of flats and flip-flops came in contact with her stomach. Hard.

"Jesus didn't help my dad when he went to jail; he's not going to save you either, you religious freak," hissed Belinda. She swung her foot hard once more, clenching her fists.

Giving a hard kick, Tracie laughed, as if she was hiccupping. Or she was just stoned. "You just want to make the rest of us look bad, don't you?" A hollow thud followed as she continued, "You and your Saint-like ways. Parents love you and--" Tracie continuously kicked and drawled out, "--teenagers hate you."

Girls that entered the washroom were called over by Belinda, as she told them to give a kick. Their eyes contained fear but they each listened, afraid that they would become something like Jamie if they didn't.

Every kick was followed by a new bruise. But it wasn't a sharp stab of pain with each kick; it was just a nagging consistent dull throb as kicks continued on. '_At least they aren't punching me,_' thought Jamie. Her tears had long vanished. It was just the bloodiness of her lip that replaced it. Jamie repressed her cries of pain by digging her nails in her palms and biting down on her lip.

The kicking worsened, and the insults continued till her stomach felt numb. Bile rose to her throat and the contents of her stomach came along with it, but Jamie forced it back down. She felt sick to the core where she began to shudder as well. Eyes shut; a gentle pained sound touched her ears. It took a few moments before Jamie realized it was herself.

A loud high-pitched whine emitted from the ceiling. More specifically, the built-in speaker was signifying the mark of another period. As Jamie kept her face hidden behind her shield of arms, a shadow grew smaller as the formerly standing figure knelt down.

A smirk evident on her pale pink lips, Belinda wrapped her left hand around both of Jamie's wrists, shoving them down, leaving her face and bleeding lip for the world to see. Belinda stroked her cheek and with a sickly sweet laugh, she whispered, "Jamie, don't hurt yourself there. Anyways, we had a fun time. Can't wait for tomorrow."

Being the kind of woman to look at a glass half-full than half-empty, the only thought that ran through Jamie's head as she heard their footsteps fade to nothing was, '_At least it's over._' She could only smile at her thought. No, she wouldn't plan to seek out revenge. No, she wouldn't cry out from her pain.

As Jamie attempted to move, her body burned in pain. But she had to. Being late to class was often – having to clean up after herself after each… chat with Belinda and Tracie. But she wanted to focus on her studies, make it through college and get a stable job. Nothing fancy, nothing amazing. She had no interest in dreams and wishes. Learning from a young age, dreams, wishes and hope were nothing but fairytales.

Her plan was nothing short of realistic. She aspired to be no one. If God wanted something else to be done with her, it would happen. Jamie had faith in that, and only that.

She pushed herself upright on her knees with her bruised arms. Jamie once again, bit her lip, struggling to stay quiet. As she shakily raised her knee to place her foot flat on the ground, Jamie held onto the sink near her, slowly but surely standing up.

Her heart skipped a beat when she looked at herself. '_I look positively horrible_.' Gently, Jamie stretched out her hand, touching the mirror. "I'm sorry," whispered Jamie. Sorry for her existence, sorry for ruining her body which God had created for her, sorry for being so hurt.

She looked down, smoothing out the crinkles in her shirt. Wetting paper towels, she managed to wipe the dirt off her shirt, most likely from their shoes. Jaime straightened her knee-length pale orange skirt, grateful to have worn socks that went up to her calf. She gently pulled them up, inhaling a sharp breath every time her hand accidentally grazed a bruise.

As she finished, Jaime left the washroom with her chin straight. Not down, not up. Neither broken or confident.

Honesty was spoken about in the Bible, but it often conflicted when teachers asked for a plausible reason as to why she late for class. Jamie strongly believed in not involving adults into her own matters. It would simply be a bother to them; Jamie knew adults stressed more often than teenagers or children and she didn't want to add onto their pile of stress.

Selflessness could've been the reason of her downfall.

But the result of being consistently tardy, her teachers stopped giving detention slips and simply ignored her when she came in late. The power of annoyance was always a winner apparently.

And so she slipped into her seat, ready to learn and prepared for the oncoming of hate notes.

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Author's Note: I hope you liked it! Review please! More reviews mean Vohx's fingers will have a higher wpm speed. Haha.

Side notes: Jaime does not have leukemia in this story; her father is not a preacher but Landon is popular and Jaime is an outcast. A typical high school story with more reality than exaggeration.


	2. A Little Help

_Looking for my Angel_

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the story.

Jamie Sullivan is anything but ordinary - a firm believer in God with the help of her mother and a father who is more than often out of the house. With the bruises and cuts from her peers, Jamie is subconsciously searching for her angel.

A Little Help, If Not For Me Then For You

'_A test is 97 accurate that a person who tests positive actually has the disease. If 2 of the population has the disease, what is the probability that a person selected at random actually has the disease if they test positive?_' As she jotted the question down, her mind was already forming the solution. '_Now if--_' Her train of thought was interrupted by the snickers behind her, followed by a crumpled paper hitting smack in the middle of her face as soon as she turned around.

Jamie gave a slight smile at the teenagers attempting to muffle their laughter. A look that basically said, 'Forgive and forget'. She knew the message wouldn't reach them but Jamie had never, ever been angry at anyone. God would've had a reason for their doings upon her. Regardless, Jamie bent over to pick up the crumpled note.

Scrawled in messy writing was, '**Why aren't you at church, bitch? You gotta pray for your stoned daddy anyways.**' Her eyes scanned downwards, noticing a crude drawing of herself crying out for her daddy. Her heart felt a sharp pain. Jamie pressed down on her chest, where her heart was. Closing her eyes, she breathed in and out. Opening her eyes, Jamie made no movement, only the fact her knuckles were turning white from holding onto the paper too hard. She said nothing and feigned indifference, standing up to put it in the recycling bin.

Jamie slid into her seat again, staring at the board, hoping it would make her disappear. At long last, a whine emitted from the speaker. Lunch.

Jamie shut her textbook and notebook gently, wrapping them in her arms – almost as if she was clinging onto it for her dear life. She stood up, only to be shoved back down by a snickering peer. Although he muttered an apology, his eyes betrayed his words. Jamie nodded, feeling a little bewildered. Honestly, she hadn't known when it began, but every time someone even touched her, Jamie's heart skipped. She just couldn't help it.

As she headed towards her locker, Jamie had heard angry grunts and string of swears down in the now-empty hallway. '_Who would be here? It's so far away from the lunchroom. Everyone would've already ran there by now_,' pondered Jamie. Continuing to walk, Jamie's face became one of recognition. "Landon."

"—Fucktastic. Great, just great! Mom's gonna kill me!" Banging his head on his locker repeatedly, "Just…" _Bang_. "..Great!" _Bang. _His face pressed to the cold locker, closing his eyes.

"Landon, you're going to hurt yourself if you keep doing that." Jamie looked at the crumpled paper in his hand. "Did you fail a paper?" Jamie had come to the assumption that Landon was a 'go-with-the-flow' kind of person, but perhaps she judged too quickly. Jesus had come across the point to never be judgmental; Jamie chastised herself mentally.

Landon, unable to figure out the voice and too stressed to even identify who it was, he stretched out his arm, dropping the paper, in which Jamie quickly caught.

Unfolding it, her eyes fell on the bright red C. She looked at him, amused that he hadn't even lifted his head to see who it was; she would've been pushed down by him if he knew the talking stranger was Jamie. Besides that, Jamie spoke quietly. "A C isn't so bad. As long as you tried your best, right?"

Landon moaned. "It's going to bring my final grade down and my mom went ballistics when I got 78 as my final grade last term! She said no girls for a month. A month! Do you know how hard that is?" Forehead still pressed to the locker, he wrinkled his nose, squeezed his eyes even more closed (if that was even possible) and pounded hard on his locker again. "Damn it. I hate English!"

A small smile curled upon her lips as she said nothing. Jamie folded it as she gathered her thoughts. "I can't say I do." As Landon continued banging his locker, muttering things like 'screwed', 'no sex', 'chicks' and things like that, Jamie watched on with amused eyes. "When writing English, you have to feel emotions when you're writing an essay and if you don't like concentrating in class, all you got to do is just ask for neat notes from someone else. You're in Ms. Vali's class with me, right?"

Landon had stopped banging his fist, but he kept his eyes closed – imagining a Swedish hot, blonde chick that he would love to bang. At the same time, he honestly was listening. Go figure. "Uhh… Yeah, if you say so."

Jamie gave a quirky smile, the one where her left eyebrow was raised as she gave something more of a smirk than a smile. "She writes the most important things on the board; the key points in completing an essay or certain tricks and tips with English, the language itself. If that's the only class you're failing, you really should try and concentrate more." She continued smiling, almost beaming. "Unless you're concentrating on the very lovely ladies in the class, you should try and take a picture. It might last longer."

Landon had a slight smile. "Now whassat thing about the whole… y'know. You said something about emotions in writing essays." Now, he just didn't want to open his eyes. Afraid maybe it was just someone he was imagining. He knew none of his friends gave a damn about English themselves anyways. And he knew that many people feared him. It wasn't Landon's fault that some people were acting as if they wanted to get this ass kicked.

Jamie's smile quickly disappeared. He was smiling. Sooner or later, he'd open his eyes and notice it was her. Hurt her for who she was, what she believed in. Jamie clutched even more tightly to her notebook. '_No. I won't leave now. It seems like he's really listening._' Determined to help Landon, Jamie continued on from her previous thoughts. "When writing an essay, you have to put feeling and emotion in it. Whether if you're supporting an opinion for a debating-themed kind of essay or just doing a creative writing essay." She closed her eyes, thinking. "And most of the time, you have to lie about your emotions."

Jamie opened her eyelids, slightly shocked that she was still here. '_I guess I wasn't dreaming._' Staring out the hallway window, Jamie spoke softly. "Pretend that you have this five thousand word essay. You're bored of the assignment but you have to believe yourself that you're happy with it. If it's a debate piece, then you have to make yourself feel and believe that whichever side you're on – you support it. Or if it's creative writing, you definitely shouldn't lie in a piece of creative writing."

Noticing her talk was coming to an end, Jamie started walking to the lunchroom - quietly, with her pace slowly increasing. "Write something you love or a place that you've always wanted to visit, or a fantasy. Anything, Landon! Just put your heart and soul into writing. That's what writing is about." She started to speak louder, since she was moving farther. "Passion, determination and emotions. Strong emotions. Strong verbs. You can do it, Carter. If not for yourself, then do it for the lovely ladies you pine for non-stop. I have f… I believe in you."

Of course the word 'faith' would give it away on her identity. Smiling, she whispered, "Good luck, Landon," with no hopes of reaching his ears.

Landon opened his eyes. His eyes focused to his right. No one was there. Standing up properly, Landon looked around. She was gone. Whoever she was. Although Landon wasn't fully-inspired, he put the girl's words to heart. He would try. He needed his daily supplement of hot babes anyways. But just who was the girl? He hadn't heard a female who sounded so sincere since Preschool. The whole lot of his female friends / ex-girlfriends all had ulterior motives with him. He didn't care, as long as they had nice cleavage.

'_Maybe it was a dream_?' As he shut his locker, noticing the paper was back inside, Landon smirked. What an interesting person she was. If only he had opened his eyes earlier instead of thinking it was just a dream. Landon was ultimately, curious about the girl. Someone who sounded so nice in high school was amazing. High School was the place for Hell's Bitches and Bastards. And the girl wasn't even trying to throw herself at him.

Landon scoffed, his problem with English was over. And he didn't expect someone like her would approach him anymore. Without another thought, Landon shut his locker; his thoughts returning to that hot blonde babe he was thinking about before. '_You're hot, I'm hot – let's go out._' Landon smiled, more than unwilling to let go of his fantasy.

Jamie held her tray with one hand, putting the toilet cover down. She locked the door, set her bag down beside her and seated herself on the seat. Trying to get as comfortable as she possible could, Jamie sighed with contentment. Lunch in the washroom was always the happiest moment in her day. But today was even better. She managed to help someone. Jamie felt great. If not for herself, then for Landon.

Laughing quietly, Jamie chewed on her salad. '_Landon Carter, you are an odd one._'

Author's Note: Please R&R. One review was a little discouraging, but the reviewer did make my day. Thank you so much!


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